


Corn Circle

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1681118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accompaniment to 'In an Apartment on Los R'obles'. Stuart and Raj take some alone time together in Nebraska.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corn Circle

**Author's Note:**

> The Big Bang Theory characters do not belong to me and I am making no financial gain off this work, although I do have a workshop full of tiny pixies attempting to come up with a way to spin kudos into gold and then I'll be set for life.
> 
> Written for dracoaries, and for my own reluctance to let a 'verse go, and for the 'hurt/comfort' square in Trope Bingo.
> 
> * * *

Stuart’s pretty sure that Leslie and Penny aren’t coming back anytime soon, but he doesn’t leap into Raj’s arms and ravish him (or demand to be ravished) right away. He toes the aged boards of the porch, stifling a yawn, and feels the seat gently sway. It’s nice out here. He’s pretty sure that a thunderstorm passed by not long before their descent; the whipcrack smell of ozone is still in the air.

“Should we go check on them?” Raj asks after a few minutes.

“Nope.” Stuart leans against his shoulder.

“But–”

“You missed a lot between Pasadena and here.”

He feels Raj’s breath quicken. “They–”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my God. Oh my _God_. And Penny had the nerve to make jokes about Tootsie Rolls.”

Stuart laughs and turns to brush a kiss against the line of Raj’s jaw. “You’ll have to make jokes back about her.”

“Mmmm.” Raj lifts his hand to cup Stuart’s cheek.

This is all still pretty new territory for them, Penny’s phallic insinuations aside. Stuart closes his eyes as Raj’s lips find his: soft, dry at first, until Raj’s tongue darts out to press slick against Stuart’s lower lip, seeking entrance.

Stuart jerks his head back, and for a split second Raj looks disappointed. But then the swing’s chain gives way, sliding Raj to the worn boards of the porch, and Stuart goes tumbling to land on top of him.

For some reason, it sets him off laughing. He’s prolifically sore and still pretty tired despite sleeping on the plane, but Raj’s shocked indignant _face_ , it’s just too _much_.

“Dude, not cool,” Raj grumbles. “I’m gonna be covered in bruises.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. That must be so hard for you.” Stuart rolls off of him, wincing.

“How did you know?”

“Heard it creaking.”

“You could have _said_.”

“I didn’t have _time_ ,” Stuart says, and offers Raj a hand up.

Raj gets up and pulls Stuart against him, slipping his hands into Stuart’s back jeans pockets. “Did I tell you how good you look in leather?”

“Once or twice.”

“It’s badass.” Raj kisses him. “It’s sexy.” His mouth is less lazy and slow now; Stuart can feel the press of Raj’s teeth behind his lips.

“Thank you.” Stuart puts his hands on Raj’s shoulders. “Just... don’t forget what I said about being kind of sore.”

“Oh.” Raj looks contrite. “Is it really bad?”

Stuart hesitates, then unzips his jacket. Raj gasps just at the sight of the bloodstains on his t-shirt; gasps again when Stuart eases his t-shirt up enough to show off the bandages wound around his torso.

“Oh my God.” Raj touches his chest with a fingertip, and Stuart shivers. “You really could have died.”

“Yeah.” Stuart has been trying not to think too hard about it. He only has so many Xanax available.

Raj grabs his hand. “Come on. I bet I can make you feel a lot better.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just come.”

* * *

Raj leads him into the corn. They scare off a few rabbits as they walk between the rows. Stuart’s pretty sure that Raj has no idea how corn fields work – they’re not going to find a cozy little nook to snuggle in – but then the corn opens out, and they’re in the middle of–

“A crop circle?”

Raj grins. “I saw it from the plane. I hoped we’d be able to see it up close.”

“It’s probably radioactive.”

“Oh, don’t be such an Eeyore.”

“Go on, then, Tigger, have a good look.” Stuart lets go of Raj’s hand and Raj does a slow lap of the perimeter of the circle, alternating between looking down at the ground and up at the sky.

It’s not long before his attention returns to Stuart, though. Perhaps because Stuart showed off his war-wounds, he’s a lot more careful, with less emphasis on the rib-cracking hugs. It’s hard to say which of them thinks of sitting down first, because making out standing up without, say, a wall to lean against gets old fast.

They’re pretty equal-minded about the progression from sitting to lying down, though.

The flattened corn is mostly soft, a little pointy here and there, and smells of petrichor and _green_. Whatever crushed it, and Stuart honestly isn’t about to rule aliens out at this stage, did a thorough job.

Before the world ended, they’d gotten as far as kissing. Quite involved kissing, really, working their way up from sneaking quick pecks over the counter at the store, to somewhat heavier stuff on either Stuart’s tiny couch in the apartment over the store or Raj’s bigger couch back at the Raj Mahal.

Not like this, though. Not Raj pulling Stuart on top of him, working one thigh in between his; not Raj toying innocently with Stuart’s hair with one hand but the other stealing in under the back of Stuart’s t-shirt and roving over his skin. Maybe it’s something about being out in the fresh air, away from the old world of customers, cell phones, video calls, all the interruptions.

There’s nothing here to distract them from each other.

“Fuck, Raj...” Stuart tears himself away from Raj’s melting-soft mouth and braces himself on one arm, hovering over Raj’s body. “Where is this going?”

Raj moves and suddenly Stuart is on his back, the cornstalks prickling damp on the back of his neck. Raj’s eyes are dark, darker than can be accounted for just by the jet-blue pre-dawn sky.

Raj’s lips form one word.

“Down.”

Stuart doesn’t have time to say “What?” to attempt verification, because Raj’s hands are at his belt, drawing the worn leather free of the buckle, and the back of one of his hands presses against Stuart through his jeans. Only the “W” comes out, and that as a shuddering exhalation.

He considers asking Raj whether this isn’t taking things too fast, but then Raj’s hands are in his pants and it’s too late.

Not because he _can’t_ stop it, but because now he doesn’t _want_ to. He wants to know how good Raj’s mouth, so adept at kissing, is at other things.

Raj’s mouth, then. Slow. Uncertain. Careful. His tongue laps at the head of Stuart’s cock and Stuart struggles not to either come right away or grab Raj’s hair and buck into his mouth. The flickering licks give way to longer, deeper sucks, Raj’s lips circling him, dragging over him. They have had fumbling conversations about their relative inexperience; evidently either Raj has been practicing this in his mind for some time, or he’s been lying his ass off.

Stuart doesn’t care.

Raj shifts a little, his tongue now rubbing along the underside of Stuart’s cock, and the sky’s too light for stars now but Stuart sees them anyway. He voices a not particularly quiet moan; Raj gives him back a pleased hum. He seems to be completely unselfconscious about how he looks doing this, something at which Stuart has never been particularly good.

He’d had a mental timeline going on; from memory they were at least a couple of weeks out from this, all things considered.

But none of those things had been the end of the world.

Raj’s mouth lifts off him. “Am I doing okay?” His tone leads credence to the sincerity of his question.

Stuart takes a deep breath and reaches to ruffle Raj’s hair. “You are,” he says. “But if you want to stop, you ca–” The rest of the sentence is lost to a surprised cry as Raj does the exact opposite of stopping, the renewed heat and slide of his lips and tongue making Stuart’s fingers tighten in his hair. For just a moment he keeps his grasp tight; something about the way Raj has to work a little to take a full breath is shamefully arousing. But then he lets his hand fall away, fingers digging into the cornstalks and earth beneath him.

“Oh, _God_ ,” he says. Raj responds with a low hum. He’s brought one of his hands into play, his fingers finding a rhythm that harmonizes with the movements of his mouth.

It’s strange; whether it’s because he was facing death just a few hours ago, or because they’re out here under the open sky, but he’s _feeling_ everything more than usual. There is a tiny part of his mind wondering how Raj’s jaw is holding out, but most of him is focused on how good it feels.

“God, Raj – Raj, I’m gonna–”

Raj glances up at him with those enigmatic dark eyes, and then drags Stuart’s cock slow and deep into his mouth, stroking the sensitive spot just under the head mercilessly with the flat of his tongue.

Stuart is used to his orgasms being confined more or less to one specific area. (And self-inflicted, but that's a whole other issue.) This one isn’t. He feels like he’s being turned inside out and it’s an excruciating pleasure. His eyes have closed of their own accord; he forces them open because he wants to see Raj.

Raj’s own eyes are closed. He looks almost meditative; the difference being that when he meditates he doesn’t have his lips stretched around Stuart’s shaft, his fingers wrapped around the base. The sight alone is almost enough to set Stuart off all over again.

Then the spell breaks as Raj lifts his head, coughing. He turns his head and spits into the corn. It’s the first evidence Stuart has that maybe Raj isn’t lying about being a novice at this after all. He’s about to ask if Raj is okay when Raj starts laughing.

“Dude, that was _intense_.”

“Wha,” Stuart says.

“You should see your face.”

Stuart blinks at him, gives up on thinking, and just focuses on remembering to breathe.

Raj was right, though; he  _does_ feel a lot better.

* * *

After that, after he’s recovered, nothing will do but that Stuart returns the favor.

Raj protests. _Actually_ protests.

“You’re all cut up!”

“I’ll be okay.” He knows he will; he moved enough while Raj was going down on him to know that he won’t strain much by reciprocating.

He strips his jacket off. Raj is only wearing cords and a t-shirt; the cords should be fine but the ground is too damp for the t-shirt alone. Raj gives him a ridiculously adoring look when he spreads the jacket out for him.

“You’re such a gentleman.”

Stuart crawls on top of him and pushes his knee between Raj’s thighs, kissing him hard. “That’s what you think _now_.”

So maybe he only has a little more practice than Raj at this. But that little more is enough to have Raj making some very interesting noises before he’s even gotten Raj’s pants open. At first he kneels between Raj’s legs, but while he’s working his way in toward Raj’s cock with slow licks over his hip bones, the wounds across his chest start pulling.

He ends up on his stomach between Raj’s legs, using Raj’s thighs to keep his chest off the ground. Raj waits patiently for him to get settled. Patient, except for the way that his cock jerks a little as Stuart exhales over him. Patient, except for the way that one bead of pre-come coalesces on the head of his cock. Patient, except for the low whimper he lets out when Stuart licks that salty bead away.

Then Stuart lowers his head and takes Raj into his mouth, and shatters that patience entirely.

“ _Stuart_!”

He’s not sure he’s ever heard his name so loud, so raw, so overwhelmed.

Raj is less controlled about the whole hair-grabbing thing. His fingers twist into Stuart’s hair; Stuart retaliates by pinning Raj’s cock against the roof of his mouth and refusing to move until Raj eases up.

“Sorry,” Raj murmurs, and then, “Oh _god_ ,” as Stuart takes him deep.

He doesn’t have time to worry about his own mouth starting to ache; Raj comes too fast for that, fast enough that he only gets one syllable of warning out before he does. Stuart takes his own warning from the tension in Raj’s thighs, though; besides, he’s used to accepting the consequences of his actions.

Raj lies still, legs sprawled indecently apart, staring up at the sky. Stuart sits up, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and then pulls his t-shirt up, exploring the bandages with his fingertips, checking for blood.

“You studied some interesting stuff in art college,” Raj says eventually.

“Exploration of Sexuality 101. It’s a mandatory subject.”

“Which year?”

“All of them.”

Raj snickers and levers himself upright, gathering Stuart into his arms. “Thank you,” he whispers, face pressed against the side of Stuart’s neck.

“For what?”

“For not letting it be awkward.”

“I think worrying about the end of the world tends to take the edge off worrying about whether or not you look stupid when you’re giving head.”

Raj lifts his head, looking alarmed. “I didn’t–”

Stuart kisses him. “You looked amazing. Now give me back my jacket, I’m getting cold.”

Just like that they go back to Raj fussing over him, actually helping him back into the jacket and then insisting on checking Stuart’s bandages for himself, although considering some of the places his hands go Stuart thinks he probably has an ulterior motive for getting his hands under Stuart’s t-shirt.

“We should go back to the house. It might not be any warmer, but at least it’s dry.” Raj gets up and helps Stuart to his feet.

“We have a whole plane we could go get cozy in.”

“True,” Raj concedes. His arm goes around Stuart’s shoulders; Stuart slips his arm around Raj’s waist, leaning into his solidity, and they make their way back to the house like that. Moreover, they don’t let go once they get there.

Stuart’s mouth still tastes like Raj, and Leslie gives him the most horrendous I-knew-it look when she and Penny come outside, and his projected timeline for the whole relationship is shot to shit, but where they’re at right now, the rules are made up and the intended progression of things doesn’t matter.


End file.
